Sophie was making a bit of a mess at dinner tonight – pasta and cheese on her chair, pasta and cheese on the table, pasta and cheese on the floor. As the food was flying in different directions, she exclaimed, with no encouragement from the audience, “I don’t want to be a messy girl!” Her words were accompanied by a classic Sophie pout (see photo).
But being messy at the dining room table does not translate to a reluctance to get dirty. Nope. Not five minutes later she was asking to be excused from the table in order to go outside and collect dirt. Yes, that’s right. Our “I don’t want to be a messy girl” likes playing in mud and digging for rocks. Like a pig in its sty. But if she should drop an elbow pasta on the floor – there’s no coming back from that.
Never a dull moment. That said, after a somewhat stressful day at work, coming home to that really helped to calm my nerves. Messy girls rule!
The minutes before bedtime this evening started with a seemingly innocuous question from Chloe. “When I am getting a cell phone?” she inquired. We asked her why and she gave her typical non-response. “I just want to know.”
When her Papa jokingly replied that she could get one when she turned 18, she was not happy. “You mean I’ll have to wait until after I can drive before I get a cell phone?” To which he told her that, in all seriousness, she’d have to wait until she was at least 14.
Needless to say, she didn’t like that answer either. I think she fully expected us to tell her we’d go to the Verizon store tomorrow. When I asked her if any of her classmates had phones, she said no (not that it would have mattered anyway). A conversation that should have been amusing turned Chloe into a very indignant 8-year old. I’m not sure how it was resolved, since she stormed off while I was outside with Sophie, except that when we returned, she and my husband were upstairs in her bed and she was noticeably calmer. And she was no longer talking about cell phones.
Today we met our Californian cousin, baby Elias, for the first time. He’s two months old, and he’s a cutie. All of 9 pounds and change, he’s “so little!” as Chloe exclaimed when she saw him. He’s the first boy in the kids’ generation of extended cousins. So he’s a big deal, a novelty.
Sophie was obsessed with holding him – and she finally got her chance when both parents stepped out of the room and my mom, who never begrudges her grandchild what she wants, stealthily passed the little guy to my little girl, who was sitting on the couch with her arms wide open. She held Elias for all of two seconds. Until he realized that the person cradling him was only a year or so out of diapers herself. That’s when he started to cry. Sophie didn’t mind, however. She was simply happy to hold the little baby. And very proud, too.
You may be wondering if seeing him made me yearn for a new baby of our own. Well – not a bit (no offense to my adorable, extremely well-behaved new cousin). Been there done that. Twice. All the gear! The BMW of breast pumps! The projectile vomiting! Hell, we’re going on a just-the-two-of-us vacation – for a week – for the first time in almost nine (9) years. The baby days are over for us. And that’s just fine.
As a follow-up to my blog entry of the other day containing video of Sophie dancing to French 1970s legend Claude Francois, I thought you’d appreciate Sophie boogying to the same song, but this time with a little booty action thrown in.
Sophie eats ALL the time. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but she must have tapeworm or something. I’m convinced that one day she’ll wake up and look like a huge waddling orb.
Granted, she’s in the 90th percentile for height and 75th for weight. We were at a 4-year old birthday party the other day and she was taller than all the 4-year olds. But seriously, she eats ALL the time.
Now – if we could get her to ingest more fruits and vegetables – I wouldn’t care that she eats ALL the time. She’s into “pommes” (apples), but that’s about it these days. Strawberries sometimes – but only if she can dip them in Cool Whip (thanks for setting the example, Papa). I bet if we told her she could dip her fruit into ketchup she’d eat more of it. She loves ketchup. Hmm. Not a bad idea. I may just have to put it to the test.
It is official. Sophie definitely has some French blood in her. The French 1970s singing sensation, Claude Francois, has inspired Sophie to channel her 1970s alter-ego. We call her Smooth Groovin’ Sophie. Ooh la la.
It was a mighty struggle, but the wombats have a habitat. Thanks to some paint, a shoebox and a lot of clay (and a stray toothpick or two to hold up the ears), three little Australian wombats have a home for Chloe’s science fair.
It took a long time – and I pretty much stayed out of it. Poor Papa had to deal with the tantrums (and there were a couple over the course of the weekend). I got to sit back and enjoy the finished product.
Nevertheless, I think we’re all really glad that this is the last project of the year. Time to wind down – it’s June for crying out loud!
OK – not quite. But in a couple of days. Sophie has just 3 more weeks of pre-school and Chloe another 4. This year has flown by – and I don’t know where it flew to.
Chloe had the bright idea to dress up as Papa. When Sophie saw fake Papa, she decided she wanted to dress up as me (I’m so flattered).
Chloe is wearing one of my husband’s suits. Sophie is wearing one of my shirts. She was also wearing my pants, until she decided she didn’t want to anymore.
Then Sophie decided that she just wanted to be Sophie. And Chloe decided it would be fun to put on a play. “Papa Goes to Work” is the resulting minor masterpiece. It’s basically Chloe’s interpretation of a typical weekday in the life of our family. I’m glad she didn’t think to include what sometimes seems to be our habitual yelling. Enjoy.
Sophie is addicted to the camera. She has 100 different flirty, coy poses up her sleeves and we always get something new. Although she does seem to have a penchant for lifting her arms in the air (which you can sort of see in the first picture) and sticking out her tongue (which is on full display in the second). She really should win some sort of modeling contest. She’s perfect for Gap Kids. I just don’t understand why she hasn’t been chosen yet – and I try every year. My photography must not do her justice. I am forever scheming to find ways to be able to quit working and do something fun. Like exploiting my children for financial gain. That mug has got to be worth a college education, right?
A Mom's Ramblings About the Marvels & Mishaps of Parenting, the Joys of Family Travel & the Writing Life
